


Escape to the Undercity

by To_Swerve_And_Defect



Category: 2000AD, Judge Dredd - All Media Types
Genre: Comforting, Dark Judges Like to Kill Stuff, Explicit Sexual Content, Gun Violence, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, So there will be a lot of death in this, Suicide, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-15 07:16:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21249527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/To_Swerve_And_Defect/pseuds/To_Swerve_And_Defect
Summary: After Judge Dredd raids the Dark Judge's latest attempt to possess hosts, Death and Mortis are the only ones who manage to escape by hiding down in the Undercity. There they plan their next move to reclaim Fire and Fear, and in the process address some long suppressed feelings for each other from before Death's campaign to purge Mega City One.The Dark Judges here are from the original continuity/pre-origin reboot.





	1. The Set Up

**Author's Note:**

> The time within canon where it takes place is unknown, but there’s a few details from Chaos Day and Dredd vs Death in there if you squint, so maybe it could count as an AU where Death was placed back in containment instead of banished to hell and so was around to be with the lieutenants during Day of Chaos.
> 
> The OCs in this are mostly just filler/side characters to move the plot along and do not play any major roles in this fic.

Chapter One  
\------

  
The Mega City never really slept, no matter the hour. Even in the darkest times of the night, lights were still on in the buildings, trails of red and white lights flowed along the highways from people returning home from a long day of work, or going out to start their night shifts. The light flooded out the glow of the stars in the night sky, making the city seem even more self contained, the matters of the people milling about within given an artificial sense of self importance- ignorant to things beyond the confines of the city’s protective walls.

Out of the flow of traffic, one set of lights broke off from the group down an off ramp, the rumble of a V12 engine seeming out of place when set to the silhouette of a motorcycle, at least if one was not familiar with the ways of Mega City One. Pavement crunched under the wide spaced tread of a lawmaster, and the bulky machine rumbled down a road that very few took at this time of night. No other vehicle was on this road, this path went to neither residential blocks or commercial facilities. Aside from the warehouses that loomed upon either side of the narrow road, and trucks that sat waiting outside for the morning shift to start, the area was barren of anything that suggested the road was useful for anything except a long, lonely drive.

The lawmaster turned down an alley that branched off from the main road, slipping between two of the warehouses. Just beyond them was a large facility that one could only fathom had to do industrial materials of some sort, cement mingled with metal piping and massive chemical vats. Though there was no sign of life on the outside, its rider could see the faint glow of light from inside the windows of the plant and just outside the chain link fence, he could make out the forms of two figures dressed in black on the inside of his helmet’s HUD, firearms held at the ready as they stood watch at the gate.

They took note of him as he came to stop, momentarily looking between each other as they considered whether or not to open fire, before figuring that if a Judge had stopped by with true judicial purpose in mind, they would not still be standing.

“Who goes?” One barked, the focused beam of the lawmaster’s headlamps revealed the intricate patterning of red and white; bones and striking blood-red patterning, upon the front of his black robes.

“Judas, I’ve come on behalf of your cause.” The Judge replied, dismounting from the lawmaster with his hands raised.

“What would a Judge want with us?” The other asked, stepping forward as he watched Judge Judas go around to the side of his bike and flip open the lid to a storage compartment.

The answer soon came when the Judge approached with a satchel in hand, opening it to pull out a large amber crystal. In the stark light the crystal’s insides were illuminated, glowing an orange-ish yellow. But there was something inside, lurking within its perfect structure. A rictus grin glared back the two guards, its owner wore the facsimile of a Judge’s helmet; shiny black and trimmed with silver. It stared out at the duo from the inky depths behind the portcullis that sat where a visor would have. The creature’s visage shifted around, reflecting in strange shapes upon the facets of the crystal, at once grinning, grimacing, and then opening its jaws wide in a silent scream.

“I believe this should suffice enough for an answer.” Judas replied, though his face was cast in shadow from the headlamp behind him, there was a smug grin evident in his voice. “The other three are in here too.”

The guards paused, transfixed upon the distorted image of the Dark Judge that stared back at them from the crystal within Judge Judas’ hand. Whatever distrust they held against the Judge before had fallen away completely, and their weapons lowered just as quickly. One of them pulled off the hood of his robe to get a better look, revealing the pallid skin of his thin face, along with his clean shaven head.

“How did you-?” One of the guards spoke up, breaking away from staring at the crystal.

“It is simple enough, once one knows how. The Judges back at the containment facility don’t know they’re keeping an eye on a bunch of holograms. At least not yet.” Judas explained, before placing the crystal that contained Judge Death back in the satchel he and his lieutenants were held in.

“Lets get moving before anyone gets wise, shall we?” Judas added soon after, nodding towards the the chemical facility that loomed behind them. “Is everything set for the ritual?”

The guard that had spoken up earlier nodded quickly, stepping back towards the building and gesturing for the Judge to follow with a wave of his hand. “We have everything set. This facility has proven to be a great boon to us, it has the chemicals we needed, machinery for the transformation process, and its large enough that any interlopers will be lost trying to find their way through the maze of its structure before they could do anything to set us back.”

“You seem to have everything figured out.” Judas commented, noting the confidence in the guard’s tone as he followed them both.

The guard that took to walking next to him, letting the other lead, gave a small bark of a laugh. “Oh yes, Azraeulus has made sure everything is airtight this time. No mistakes, no interruptions."

There was only a plan for success this time around, and they would make sure they would attain it.

\-----

Inside the building the place looked more like a base of operations than a simple chemical plant. Above them catwalks were converted into places where armed guards could overlook the chambers they were stationed in, automatic rifles at the ready for any uninvited guests. Blood red banners adorned with the images of bones and skulls hung on the walls of the hallways they passed through, illuminated in the dull industrial lighting that buzzed above them.

The three walked for what felt like forever, their footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. Judas glanced at their surroundings, watching the armed guards that paced above them. Every so often one would look down on them, and glare at the Judge that joined them with suspicion. Judas swallowed, turning his attention back to the long corridor lined with morbid banners of black, red, and white.

“Brother Azraeulus is waiting just ahead.” The one guard announced, “The Death Cult is greatly pleased and holds immense gratitude for your service.”

Judas looked ahead to the doorway they were coming to, flanked by armed guards at either side. “I’m sure he does.” He uttered to himself.

They approached the two, donning deep black robes and holding automatic rifles. They kept the hoods of their long robes off their heads, all the better to see who is coming, Judas supposed. They nodded to the trio, lowering their weapons and grasping the handles of the large, heavy doors to pull them aside. They were made of thick metal, possibly enough to soak up bullets and then some. The doors slid along a track rather than swinging aside, creaking and groaning from ages of being left unused.

“Greetings brothers, and guest. Our brethren await you inside.” A cultist greeted from within as the doors slowly slid aside. “Brother Fredrick is leading mass. It should be nearly over, then we will get underway with the transformation ritual.”

Behind him, the three could see the mass of cultists, draped in black robes and holding candles in silence. They stared ahead to a platform that had been converted to something of a stage and a ritual area. Four machines were set up next to each other, each one a tub-like container complete with pumping machinery and nozzles pointed to them. Vats of steaming chemicals flanked them on either side, almost seeming to set the ominous mood of the congregation. Upon it was what Judas could only assume to be a priest of Death, leading a dark mass before the transformation went underway. His voice carried over the amassed crowd, a hollow echo that sent an odd chill down the Judge’s spine as the two cultists that lead him in turned and departed to stand at the door he had just entered.

He did not bother to listening to what exactly Fredrick was preaching. There was plenty to take in already and Death Cult preachers tended to stick to the same dour material.

Judas noticed a figure come to stand next to him, the cultist that had greeted him earlier. He looked up at him, giving quick nod towards the platform. “We should be getting them ready. Follow me. Azraeulus is waiting.” He said in a hushed tone before moving to the side of the room. “Apologies for the lack of introductions. I am Brother Gerald.” he added, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the Judge following him.

“Judas. Judge Judas.” The Judge replied in turn, keeping his voice down as he followed the cultist.

Just as they grew near to the platform, Gerald paused, turning to an old door. Its green paint peeled and flaked, though he could make out the remains of a label that read “Security” in white lettering. Gerald twisted the knob, with a click and a dull creak he opened the door and lead the way in. Inside, the office was far better furnished than the decrepit appearance of the door lead one to believe. That familiar banner Judas had seen along the halls of the facility hung proudly at the end of the office, just behind a large wooden desk. Two chairs sat in front of it, just as well furnished as the rest of the office; plush, comfortable, denoting the owner of the room was certainly doing well for themselves. No paperwork sat upon the surface of the desk, save for a closed black notebook, illuminated by a desk light that seemed to be the only light in the whole room. More noticeably, upon the desk sat a small framed portrait of Judge Death, his toothy malevolent grin meeting the two as they approached.

The imagery of the Chief Dark Judge and the cults own propaganda decorated every corner of the office. Black, red, and white covered the room to a fanatic level. Then again, what else would a Death Cult be, but fanatic.

Behind the desk, a large chair sat with its back swiveled to face them. Dark black leather gleamed in the light of the lamp. As Judas pondered it, something else made itself clear to him. His nostrils flared, burning with a strange new odor. The stink of death hung thick in the room, and with it an uncomfortable feeling settled itself in his gut.

“Brother Azraeulus.” Gerald greeted, “Forgive my intrusion, I have brought you a visitor. This is the Judge who agreed to work with us-”

“Judas, yes. I have been awaiting him.” Hissed a low voice from behind the chair.

There was a thoughtful hum, before it swiveled around to reveal the leader of this particular cult. Azraeulus was by no means a healthy looking man, taking his devotion to the dark destroyer to the point where he seemed to be trying to turn undead himself. His face was gaunt, pale skin pulled taught over his bones. Pale blue eyes glowered out from deep, recessed eye sockets, seeming to stare straight through the Judge that stood before him. His body, Judas assumed, was just as emaciated under his layers of robes, as a skeletal, thin hand gestured to Gerald.

“Thank you, Brother Gerald. Now leave us, I wish to speak to our friend privately.” Azraeulus’ voice was hoarse, a hollow whisper that felt like it belonged to someone on their death bed than a leader.

Gerald gave a small, respectful bow and left, quietly closing the door behind him. Judas glanced back to Azraeulus when the cultist had left the room, only to find those icy blue eyes had been on him the whole time.

“Come, sit.” Azraeulus offered, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Judas gave a nod, complying as he took a seat, watching as the cult leader reclined back in his chair with a sigh.

“You are the one who has liberated our glorious leader and his apostles from their prison, correct?” He asked, letting his hands clasp over his chest.

“Yes.”

“May I... See them?” Azraeulus elaborated soon after, “Not that I do not trust you, but it is more reassuring to see them all before we proceed with your reward.”

Judas obliged, retrieving the satchel from his belt and placing it on the desk. Azraeulus reached over to it, pulling the edges open to let the crystals fall out from the cloth bag to sit on the desk. Judas watched as the cult leader wrapped his spindly fingers around one, choosing to inspect the visage of the one that bore the face of Judge Death above the lieutenants that waited expectantly in their prisons. Azraeulus turned the crystal over in his hands, marveling it as the face shifted and contorted within the glaseen.

“Perfect.” Azraeulus whispered, “It will be glorious when they are finally released and able to resume their work.”

“Yes.” Judas hastily agreed, clearing his throat before going on to a more pressing concern. “And the payment?”

Azraeulus glanced up from admiring the glaseen crystal, a small frown pulling at the corners of his thin lips. “Ah, yes. You will be handsomely compensated for your effort. In fact...”

He set the crystal down, and Judas watched as the old, skeletal looking man leaned down to retrieve something from beneath the desk. With a small groan, he hefted a briefcase onto the table undoing the latches with a sharp click to open it and reveal the credits inside. Impressive as the display was, however, Judas could not help but crack an amused grin.

“Wiring the money was not good enough?” He remarked, looking it over before Azraeulus shut the case once again.

“Everything is monitored closely now.” The cult leader replied, seeming none too amused by his guest, “Cash is harder to trace, easier to move without anyone spying in. I am sure you recognize that. There is one hundred thousand credits waiting in there for you.”

“Sure, sure.” Judas replied, pulling the case towards him. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll count it myself before leaving.”

“Of course, Judge Judas.” Azraeulus said, leaning back in his chair, “Take all the time you need, but as for me, I will need to be seeing to it that our friends here are made whole.”

\----

They had been waiting for so long, too long, for this day to come.

“Let the dead fluids flow! Let the corpse ripen!”

Azraeulus’ voice howled over the hiss of machinery, his sickly voice took on a strange strength as the ritual unfolded. The bodies had been set in place, each corpse was dressed in the appropriate attire for their respective owner. They laid still in the tubs as a corrosive, foul smelling liquid sprayed from the jets above them. But as he spoke the words, they were echoed by a chorus of dead, sibilant voices that were not his own.

Above him, four specters circled the platform, watching impatiently. Gaunt, skeletal limbs were tucked up under the chests, swooping in to watch as the bodies that had been chosen for them quickly rotted, flesh withering and tightening over bone until they looked as if they had been decaying for months instead of a few seconds.

“The bodiessss are ripe!” Came a sharp hiss, its owner was a blackened skull wreathed in brilliant red flame.

Fire darted from one body to another as the other three descended to claim a host for their own, anticipating a return to their full power. Death quickly dove down, hovering over the chosen corpse for him to claim.

“Enter, Death! fill thisss ssouless carcasss!” He chanted, before phasing into it.

Fire, Mortis, and Fear quickly followed suit, each one picking a body and chanting the proper words before claiming it as their host. In moments the bodies twitched as unlife flowed into them, fingers tensed into claws and snapped forward to grab the edge of the tubs they were prepared in. Their skin greened, talons grew long and sharp from their fingertips. With a hiss they rose from the corrosive dead fluids, dripping with the putrid chemicals as they stepped out. Mortis arose with a rasping gasp as his host’s skull contorted and transformed, taking on the visage of a sheep’s skull as the flesh fell away. He shook the fluid from his face, and he turned at the harsh roar of flames igniting. Fire climbed out of the tub, trident in hand to join Fear and Death with a low hiss, rolling his shoulders as if he had been sitting, cramped for decades.

A roaring cheer rose from the cultists, their hands raised high as they adored the return of the ones they called their saviors, here to rid the world of life and the crime that came with it. Yet they seemed completely oblivious to how that promise included them as well.

“We have returned!” Death boomed, his claws raised zealously as he stepped forward, “Now to purge thisss city of iniquity, the crime isss life, the sssentence iss-”

“Intruders!” A guard interjected breathlessly as he pried the heavy doors aside and staggered into the room, “Judges! Someone tipped them off and they sent everyone!”

It was only after he had quickly given his message that it was clear something was not right about him. Red stained the door from where his hand had grasped it. Blood, fresh and copious, was pouring out of him. It dripped down his robes from the group of bullet holes that had torn through them. Deep, red liquid had followed him in a trail and pooled in a quickly growing puddle beneath him. The moment he had given his warning, the cultist collapsed to floor, dead.

A gasp rose from the crowded mass.

“Who tipped them off?!”

“How could they have found us?”

“No! We were so close!”

A thousand questions arose in a thousand minds, and the room soon was buzzing with anxious voices.

Death’s claws curled and he gave a sharp hiss. Once again the city’s Judges had come to stop them. The Dark Judge’s lip curled and he addressed the mass of cultists as they hurriedly talked among themselves in a panic.

“Go to them my dissciplesss! Do not let them advance a ssstep further, they carry thisss ssecret to their gravesss!” He pointed a clawed finger towards the door, and the firefight that was taking place just beyond it.

Immediately the group obeyed, taking up their guns and rushing to the door to meet them. It was almost admirable how quickly they answered to Death’s call, if it were not for the fact they were acting out of a greater fear of what would befall them if they did not do as the Dark Judge said.

The snap of gunfire echoed down the hall among screams and barked orders, quickly- perhaps too quickly- it advanced down the hall until he could see the muzzle flashes just outside the door and the deep navy and gold that made up the Mega City Judges’ uniforms. One of the cultists shouted to close the door, another yelled something about a rail-gun. In a dull roar of machine gun fire and a brilliant flash of flame, the matter was clarified and made real.

Bodies were torn asunder in a spray of red and viscera. Limbs turned to slabs of ravaged meat and the air became a storm of agonized screams and the thunder of gunfire. Blood pooled beneath a growing carpet of shredded black robes that spread from wall to wall. The sickly sweet taste of copper mingled in the air with the stink of gun powder and fear.

Death and his lieutenants recoiled, impressed, almost admiring the carnage that was so effortlessly laid out before them. Yet, cruel fate dictated it was at the hands of those who wished to see them put back in containment. Helmets soon breached the door, and Death gave a sharp hiss as he found a far too familiar face among them. Leading the charge was Dredd, his scowl unmistakable.

Part of Judge Death wanted to leap down into the fray and tear him apart, yet another, more composed part of him reminded that they had more than enough firepower to reduce their hosts to nothing more than scraps of decayed flesh and bone. That fact grew more pressing as Dredd’s eyes locked with his.

“There, lock the gun on them and fire!” The order was barked, and Dredd’s lawgiver was quickly pointed in his direction.

With a sharp bang, a few rounds were knocked off at the Dark Judge’s host, tearing fresh holes through the black leather of his uniform. Death staggered back with a hiss, the force they took with them to their raid new and startling.

Fire however seemed unwilling to be intimidated by the new weapon that Dredd had brought with him and promptly turned his trident upon the intruders. In a flash of flame he lit up the bodies in front of them, creating a wall of fire that roared and licked hungrily at the army of Judges at the door. Those that had thought to try and advance immediately retreated, others that were less fortunate howled as their bodies caught alight, the stink of burning leather and hair mingling with the gore that surrounded them. They panicked and flailed in a vain attempt to put out their burning skin, only managing to create more chaos in their struggling as other Judges tried to avoid being set alight as well.

Yet, it was not enough to deter the operators of the massive rail gun they brought with them. They held fast, staring down the four up on the platform and all to ready to open fire.

There was no time to issue orders on his end as the muzzle of the monstrous weapon was trained on them. Just as he gained the sense to yell for his lieutenants to seek cover, the chilling drone of machine gun fire ripped through the building. Where Fire and Fear once stood, now there was only a greenish, rotting pulp and fragmented bone.

‘Damn you!” He heard Fire shriek as he ascended from his ruined body with a hiss, Fear followed quickly after.

But before they could make a move to snare a fresh host, something metallic and disc shaped was flung their way. It clattered to the cement floor before them and snapped open with a hiss.

“Sssuction trap!” Fear bitterly hissed.

With a howl their ghostly forms were both snared and sucked in, the trap closing with a sharp click.

The thought of a retort or plan of counterattack did not have a chance to cross his mind. Out of the corner of his eye, he found promise- a directional marker to a maintenance access. His claws instinctively snatched at Mortis’ arm without looking, yanking him away as the weapon released another barrage of bullets. Where Mortis had stood a moment before, a crater had been drilled into the cement wall. Death fled, dragging Mortis along behind him as he wracked his brain for a solution, a place where they could get ahead of Dredd and figure out what to do next. The sheep skull headed Dark Judge struggled to keep up, most of his effort put into keeping himself from stumbling as his leader wove around the vats of chemicals and machinery in a vain effort to stay behind cover.

Behind them both they could hear the Judges start extinguishing the wall of fire. It would not be long before they caught up to them.

“Where are we going?” Mortis hissed as he followed Death around a corner and down a concrete hall.

“Sssomewhere Dredd cannot follow.” Death hissed, glancing around before catching sight of the promised access. “There!”

It was not much, a heavy metal floor hatch labeled Maintenace Access 1B, but to the Dark Judge, it was the closes thing he could come to finding an advantage in their situation. Quickly Death let go of Mortis’ hand, twisting open the release and pulling the hatch aside. Before them a tunnel down opened, complete with metal rungs that allowed a way down and lit with fluorescent lamps.

“Quickly, letss move.” Death hurried, rushing back to Mortis and grasping him again to bring him to the tunnel.

He ushered Mortis down inside the access before following him in and closing the hatch behind them. Grasping the valve he gave a few hard twists, locking off the access point from inside.

Below, Mortis watched him from the bottom of the access, his empty eye sockets following him as he made his way down the ladder to join him. With the way to the facility cut off, so to was the sound of gunfire and yelling. Down here there was not a sound between them save for the creaking bones of their hosts and the buzz of the lighting around them.

“Thisss will keep them out?” He wondered, looking up at the hatch they had arrived in seconds before.

“No, they will breach it eventually once they figure out we ussed it, but that isss not the point.” Death hissed, his gaze settling on a wall mounted map of the access routes that wove themselves like a maze beneath the city. “Thiss will ssimply buy usss time. Time and a meansss to go where we truly intend to.”

“Let usss hope it grantsss usss more time than lesss.” Mortis replied, watching his chief as he regarded the map.

The routes were placed behind glass, each one marked a different color to ensure it stood out from the others and was easy to follow. Death’s talons traced one, following it down and around the map until it came to an odd bend. With a thoughtful hiss and a tap of his talon upon the glass, the Dark Judge seemed to have reached a conclusion. It did not take long before Death came to a decision on where he wanted to go, stepping away from the display to face Mortis.

“Quickly, we go thisss way. Follow my lead.” Death instructed, motioning for Mortis to follow him as he started down the tunnel.

As they went, Death relayed his plan to Mortis. His smooth, sibilant voice echoed through the tunnels alongside the patter of their bare, leathery feet against the concrete floor.

“The sssinnersss who rebuilt thisss city put in new accesss pointss for their maintenance crewsss after the attempted Necropolisss.” Death explained as they made their way down the tunnels, twisting and turning through corridor after corridor. “But to sssave effort they built them off the prexisssting access tunnelsss. Ones that go deeper underground.”

Mortis hissed, following Death as he spoke. He remembered Necropolis well enough, the failure stung, but not so much as it had his leader once Dredd had intervened. Even now he could hear it in his tone, how he spoke of the incident. He wished he knew of a way to ease the weight of such failure from the other’s shoulders, if only so to help him out of the creative slump that manifested since then. It was no secret that their plans had been rather one-note as of late. Since Necropolis their plans were to go forth, purge as they usually did, fight capture, and inevitably be captured.

The lieutenant would not be surprised if the plan would be no different now. Mortis hastened his pace, coming to stride alongside Death.

“Ssso where doess that leave usss?” Mortis hissed, “Are we to lossse them in the tunnelsss, or ssplit them up and take them down in sssmaller numberss?”

“Neither,” Death hissed, turning to look over his shoulder at Mortis, “The older tunnelsss were built deep, deep enough that when this city grew unssstable and ssstarted to decay, the tunnelsss gave way ass well, and opened up into a city below thisss one.”

Mortis’ skull tilted, the lieutenant seemed to have trouble following as he puzzled together what Death was saying. “There isss another city? Why have we not heard of it?”

“Oh, we have. Or, I have. Anderssson had hid down there ass have other sssinnerss, it isss sso deep down that Nausssea and Phobia could not probe down into it- to much interference from the densse concrete. I am thinking that it may be the sssame for the Pssi-divisssion.” Death elaborated, a smile forming in his voice that mirrored the toothy grin he constantly wore. “We ssshould be nearing the accesss to the older tunnelsss sssoon.”

The sound of bare feet on concrete suddenly halted as Death came to a bend in the tunnel. It did not seem too different from the halls of smooth concrete and stark off-white paint. However, there was something about it that stood out to the Dark Judge. A clawed hand raised, brushing over the wall before him. There, plain for anyone to discover was a sudden, out place portion that was covered over in brick instead of cement, painted white in a vain effort to make it blend in with the rest of the access tunnel.

“Yesss, here it isss, Mortisss.” Death hissed, “Thiss isss our way into the city below usss. If you would be ssso kind to do the honorsss.”

He turned to the lieutenant next to him, nodding for the sheep skull headed Dark Judge to step forth. Death stepped aside as Mortis approached the wall, reaching out his claws to rest upon the painted over brickwork. In seconds the paint started to peel and flake away where his hands touched, brick crumbled and rotted away into dust before him. In less than a moment, the built over entrance to the old tunnel system had fallen away, now open to them. With it, the stink of mildew and decades of trapped moisture rolled out to greet them.

The tunnel they stood in seemed sterile in comparison to the rotting edifice that lay before them. The lights that lined the way down the old access tunnel had burned out decades ago and filled with water, staining the glass a nasty yellow and black. Mold had taken to the crumbling concrete that was visible to them from the light of the newer tunnel.

Yet, with the way to freedom laying open and waiting to them, Death could not help but ponder if it really would grant them enough time. They could not simply seal the way shut as they had done with the hatch. The literal gaping hole in the wall would be a giveaway as to where they ended up once Dredd found it. Death glanced down the way they came, almost expecting to hear boots clomping down the hallway and shouting echoing down the corridor. His senses were met with nothing, as it had been for their whole time down here. Either Dredd had not figured out where they had gone just yet, or he was plotting a way to get to them.

“Chief?” Mortis spoke up, and Death caught him staring as he had been briefly caught up in his thoughts.

“Ah, jussst thinking about sssomething. Let’sss keep moving, our time isss preciouss.” He hissed, before stepping into the tunnel. He could hear a small sigh from his lieutenant before he stepped in after him.

Regardless of what Dredd had in mind for them, Death thought, it would be a long while before they caught up to them. The old access ways were numerous and treacherous. To search all of them would take time and more manpower than they could possibly afford. They would be chasing their tails for weeks, perhaps months down there.

Down in the old access tunnels, the cement had lifted and caved, forcing the path into a series of dips and peaks to navigate, made more treacherous without the aid of any light to show the way. Perhaps a lesser creature, a mortal, would have issue with the decaying access routes. As for Death and Mortis, their eyes glittered in the dark, glowing a baleful red. Sight beyond sight allowed them to navigate the old tunnels without much effort, ducking below collapsing wires and brushing aside webs that strung themselves from wall to wall. The stink of decay from the crumbling, water damaged cement filled their senses like an ambrosia, and Death glanced behind him as he heard a sound from Mortis he had not heard in a long, long while.

Contentment, it nearly was alien to him to hear it from his lieutenant.

“Remindsss me of home.” Mortis hissed as he caught Death’s glance, his tone took on something more wistful as he gave a small sigh. “Perhapsss sssomeday we may return.”

Though Death sympathized with Mortis, he knew such a thing may be out of their reach. Their task was immense, nigh endless in requiring their constant attention. The thought of returning home to Deadworld for any amount of time was wishful at best so long as the Judges of Mega City One were relentless in resisting them.

Their dimension jump technology was kept under lock and key, and the teleporters they had used in the beginning of their campaign had all been destroyed. Death turned his attention back ahead as the kept walking, watching for a fork in the corridor that could lead down into the Undercity. The chief, as terrible and ruthless as he could be, could bring himself to break down his lieutenant’s hopes of returning home. He missed hearing Mortis in good spirits, he swore he could hear the sound of the bones in his tail creaking, perhaps wagging idly from side to side. Eventually he broke the silence between them.

“Thiss may be as good asss we can get for now.” Death opined, keeping his gaze forward. “Once we get down deep enough, no one will be able to detect usss. It will be like home, in a way.”

\----

After what felt like hours of wandering through the ruined tunnels beneath the city, Death picked up something new. The stale, dead odor seemed fresher now, and a breeze tickled against his rotten skin. He pressed forward, his pace quickening until he was nearly jogging down the tunnel.

Mortis followed, suddenly finding himself needing to work to keep up. His skeletal jaws parted in a question as he tailed his chief down the winding, decaying path.

“What isss it?” He called ahead, vaulting over a section of collapsed flooring to keep up.

By now Death was nearly digging his talons into the walls and skittering along them like a creature possessed to bypass the ruined sections of tunnel that threatened to stand between him and what seemed like a way out.

“We’re getting closse, the Undercity ssshould be ahead! I can sssensse it, I can feel a breeze on my ssskin and a new sssmell on the air.” He announced to his lieutenant, scrambling over a section of collapsed, rusted pipe as he continued on his dogged pace.

The stink of decay was ever present, but there were new smells that mingled with it. He could pick up the strong odor of bats, though from where they were it was but a faint scent among the older stale smells in the tunnel. However, the more surprising smell he had picked up on the draft that wound its way through the corridors of the old access tunnels, was that of smoke.

Could the city be burning? Or more likely, were there still mortals that sought to find a home among whatever lay down there beneath the metropolis? Death chose to hope upon the latter, after so long his claws itched to sink themselves into another purge.


	2. Into The Undercity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having found a way in to the Undercity, Judge Death and Judge Mortis set out to explore their new surroundings, but not everything is right with the chief dark judge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the comics do not really have much in mind for how the dark judges speak aside from being dead sounding, there's some reference in mind for how Death and Mortis sound for this fic (but that's mostly for reader discretion, I use a reference for ease of writing).
> 
> In this Mortis sounds like he does from his appearance in the Dredd vs Death game. Death's voice sounds like the one from the Deathtrap audiobook when he had been voiced by Mark Gatiss.
> 
> Side Note: There is a suicide later on in this chapter, be warned.

-Chapter 2-

  
After clawing his way over ruined cement and collapsing pipework, Death stopped. The path had ended, or more, it had completely collapsed out from under itself. After years of neglect and decay, the tunnel structure had fallen away, sloping down and opening up to a massive cavern below. Through the dark, Death could see the ruins of skyscrapers leaning on eroded foundations. Their steel frameworks stuck out from the crumbling stone like massive interwoven skeletons.

Mortis soon came to join him, carefully picking his footing upon the ruined concrete to stand next to his chief as they looked out over the ruins of the city that had been here prior.

“Look at it.” Death hissed, “An entire city, abandoned.”

Mortis shook his head, looking over the miles of ruined city that was left to crumble under a dome of concrete. The draft from the cavern below them whistled through the bones of his skull.

“Ssshame, that thisss city isss below and not above.” The lieutenant hissed.

Death looked to him, “Why ssso, Mortisss?”

“Thiss one isss already dead.” He replied, soon followed by a curt chuckle.

The chief however, did not seem so amused. “I would not be ssso quick to pressume. Look down there, Mortisss.”

Death turned his gaze down to the city below. From up here, while the city had been sitting as a ruin for ages, it was far from dead. The smell of smoke he had sensed earlier arose to fill his nostrils once again, faint but noticeable. A simple scan over the rotting cityscape was enough to find the source; small plumes of flame flickered below among the buildings, glowing through the tangled masses of concrete and steel.

“There are sssinnerss down there, hiding among the ruinsss.” Death hissed, “It isss a greater ssshame, dear friend, that a dead city isss not allowed to be truly dead.”

Mortis’ talons flexed with a sharp crackle of withered, leathery sinew, watching the fires below. “We could fix that eassily enough, vagrantsss are sssimple, weak.”

Certainly, the ones that called this place home were unlikely to be anyone capable of causing them real harm. But there was still a matter of getting down to them. The tunnel they were standing in had to be several stories up, and along the steep edge of the concrete dome as well. Although, their dilemma was made far simpler when the Dark Judge glanced around to the buildings nearer to them. Not too far below, Death noticed a small stroke of fortune, one of the ancient buildings had grown rotten all the way through and collapsed. Its broken form laid up against the edge of the concrete dome, creating a platform of twisted metal and ruined stone for them to climb down.

“Yesss, and we could get down to them by usssing that ruin there.” Death pointed out, “Follow my lead.”

All it would take is an ounce of prudence concerning the first step down.

Death carefully crouched down, hopping to a slab of concrete that looked stable enough to hold them both. Jagged, cracked from when the building had collapsed, there was just enough space for him to stand on. Bare feet clapped against stone, the rebar that sprouted from its sides like rusted, winding vines vibrated from the disturbance. Perhaps if he were heavier, the sound would have been a warning that he chose the wrong place to land, but when one was merely skin and bone it was of little consequence.

The chief watched as his lieutneant stepped to the edge of the tunnel, his bestial skull looking between the jagged broken portion of the ruined structure he was perched upon and the slab of concrete Death was on. Granted, while Death was easily able to make the jump down, looking down he realized the slab of concrete he had chosen was barely able to fit two people, let alone have enough space to let someone hop down while he was on it.

Mortis beat to him to voicing the matter, “Your plan isss more precariousss in practice.”

“Agreed, while it ssseemss ssturdy enough, there isss barely sspace for the both of usss.“ Death admitted, watching his lieutenant as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Perhaps I ssshould find another route while you desscend from here.” The lieutenant offered, nodding back towards the tunnel.

Mortis’ gaze shifted back towards the tunnel they had came from, but before he could think to turn and start walking, there was an abrupt “No!” from Death. Mortis’ empty gaze snapped back to his chief, his skull tilting quizzically.

Death was quick to elaborate, “There isss no knowing whether there will be another opening further down the tunnelsss, it isss besst to climb down from here.”

It was a decent enough explanation, though deep down there was a part of the Dark Judge that did not want Mortis to leave him. He already had lost two of his friends to the Judges already, and to have Mortis go off and possibly risk being captured was something that sent a burning sense of loathing through his bones. Yet, it was a sentiment he found difficult to voice at the present moment. Mostly he did not want his lieutenant thinking him incapable, not when they were at the edge of strange and new territory.

“How?” Came a simple, yet oddly difficult question from his lieutenant.

A jagged talon came to tap at Death’s chin as he glanced away for a moment, thinking. There was nothing around to use for climbing down that he could give his lieutenant. Around him was little more than rusted, twisting tangle of metal, cement, and rotten wiring. But, at the same time, there was still himself.

“I will catch you.” Death decided, holding out his arms. “Jump to me and I will make ssure you do not fall.”

He could barely hear the low hiss that whispered from Mortis over the draft that blew around them. The fellow superfiend looked him over, quiet, contemplating. The only giveaway that Mortis was considering anything at all was the way his tail flicked to either side, curling and uncurling with a dull crackle of old sinew and bone.

His skeletal jaws parted finally in response, “Very well.”

Death’s brow furrowed beneath the dark of his portcullis, the time it took for him to come to that conclusion was not incredibly reassuring. Still, he watched as Mortis climbed down from the edge of the broken path, easing himself over the edge before swinging towards the slab of concrete and dropping down into the other’s waiting arms. The chief had expected Mortis to have some prudence in his descent, but in the effort he had made to ensure he got to the makeshift platform there was more energy behind the jump than he had expected.

Teeth bared in a sharp hiss Death stepped backward, his arms wrapped tightly around Mortis’ waist. In trying to keep them both from falling over, he stepped onto a portion of concrete that had been rendered crumbling and unstable. They both heard a sharp crack as it gave way from under his heel, and the two tumbled down into the ruins of the collapsed building. Their shrieks echoed off its rotting walls on the way down before inevitably ending with a dull crunch of flesh surrendering to something hard and unyielding.

\-----

Old wiring hung down from the ruined walls of the inside of the fallen skyscraper, split with dry rot. What had once been drywall and plaster now resembled rotten fat sloughing off barren frames of metal and rotting wood, tinted a foul marbling of yellow and black from years of waste water dripping through them. Mold happily took hold and multiplied here, feeding on the old asbestos insulation that now hung down in hazardous strings from the portions of the ceiling and walls that had completely fallen away. Overturned desks sat mangled in what halls were left intact, embedded in the remains of the walls and floor.

But from the remains of an old painting that hung down from above, where one would assume to be the ceiling, it was evident that the notions of whether or not something was a wall or a floor were tossed aside long ago with the building had collapsed.

However, there was not only rot and mold lurking in the depths of the old ruin. Deep, down in the dark of the edifice, something stirred.

Two figures laid sprawled among the rotten plaster, their forms twisted into uncomfortable, contorted positions. Suddenly there was a sharp snap, like a limb being violently set back into a joint and one of them groaned. Death’s hand rose to grasp at his jaw, now stuck at an unnatural angle. With a firm tug and a crunch, it was pulled back into place. Death’s host was just as noisy in its protests as he slowly sat up to assess their surroundings. They no longer had to fret about how they were going to climb down, at the very least. From what he could tell, they had landed down inside the old skyscraper- however it managed to keep some portion of itself intact.

Through the dark, Death could see Mortis crumpled next to him. His form seemed to have fared worse, as his body had been forced in such a way that his back bent at a painful angle, forcing his hips to hang over his head. What bothered the chief more however, was how still he was. There was not a hiss or a twitch from his lieutenant that suggested consciousness. Quickly knelt next to the crumpled body, and Death grasped his hips in his talons. A sharp, painful snap met his ears as he pushed them back over, and Mortis’ legs clapped limply to the floor.

“Mortisss?” Death hissed, moving himself to sit closer to him. “Mortisss, are you ssstill with uss?”

He reached towards him, hesitant to touch his unresponsive lieutenant. But he could not bring himself to simply let Mortis lie there either. A concerned hiss whispered from him as he gathered up the other in his arms, holding the back of his skull to keep it from lolling back.

“Mortissss.” He urged.

His grip upon the other tightened, and Death’s expression resembled that of deep concern instead of his usual rictus grin. Their spirits were immortal, he did not worry about Mortis possibly being dead for good. but their hosts however could only take so much before they had to evacuate them. Had the fall been enough to render his unusable? There was a dull creak from the other, his skull turning to look up at him from where it was cradled in his leader’s talons.

“I am here.” He hissed, sitting up from Death’s embrace. “I had not expected uss to fall.”

Relief washed over the superfiend, and he leaned away to give his lieutenant some space. “Neither had I, the platform mussst have been more unssstable than I had thought.”

Death rose to his feet, shifting himself to help up Mortis. An arm looped over Death’s back and held onto him as Mortis came to his feet with a quietly uttered thanks.

Decaying walls bowed in around them, dry rotten wires hung over rebar and decaying plaster. Through the dark he could see old furniture from decades past, slouching and mangled from years of rotting within the dank walls of what the Dark Judge could only figure could be some type of office building. Looking up, he could see the hole they had fallen in through. They way they had come in had to be several stories above them, lined with jagged twisting steel all the way down.

“It isss a wonder we managed to land with our hossstss intact.” Death hissed, more to himself than the lieutenant leaning upon his shoulder.

He turned as he heard Mortis shift, brushing a chunk of rotted plaster from his person as he let go of him and looked around. He stretched with a groan, ancient sinew popping and bones crackling as they set themselves back in place. It seemed the fall had done more than simply twist his back.

“At the very leassst, we know now that if Dredd figuress out where we are, the way to usss isss treacherousss.” Mortis commented as he looked around the decaying room they had fallen into. “Perhapss we will get lucky and he will fall too.”

“Indeed.” Death replied slowly, though they still had to figure a way through the rest of the ruin.

Having twisted upon collapsing, the remains of doorways sat gaping above and below them. Rotting wood came to resemble tar as time had worn on, soft and bending to hang from their mouldings. More than likely, Death thought, they were standing on the remains of a wall.

Death’s thoughts returned to the opening they had fallen from. On top of their fall, there had to be several miles of concrete sitting between them and the Mega City now. Miles between them and the Judges, the prying minds of Psi-division, along with ever relentless Dredd and Anderson. His shoulders eased, a tension leaving that he suspected he had been carrying, but did not realize exactly how much until now. For a moment there was no running, no worrying about if anyone had followed them, how much time they had before they were found out. Despite having essentially traded the confines of one city for another, something about it was oddly freeing.

His thoughts were interrupted by a harsh pop and a snap, and he turned in time to see Mortis clutching his shoulder, rolling his arm in the recently reset joint before stepping forward. With a hiss he came to inspect a portion of mottled, peeling drywall, letting his fingers brush over it. He barely had to touch it and the ruined plaster turned to dust beneath his talons.

“Thesse wallsss are already well decayed. It would not take much effort for me to clear a path down to the ground level.” His lieutenant observed, turning his skull to look at Death with a single empty eye socket to add, “...If you wisssh.”

“Certainly, friend.” Death agreed, gesturing to a wall of rubble ahead. “That way sshould take usss all the way down. You may take the lead.”

Mortis lurched forward, his claws tensing with a sharp pop. “With pleasssure.” He hissed, before sinking them into a mass of rotten drywall.

Twisted, rusting rebar, moldy drywall, even steel beams succumbed to Mortis’ rotting touch. Within moments what had been a massive barrier of ruined building had been reduced to dust as the Dark Judge’s feet. Death followed behind as his lieutenant continued forward, easily clearing a path down to a more intact section of the building. Finding not much to look at as they moved through the ruin, Death’s eyes wandered over to watch Mortis as he set about his work. It was almost mesmerizing to watch whatever he touched reduced to near nothing. But that was not all that caught his attention.

His lieutenant’s tail swayed happily from side to side, keeping in rhythm with his stride as they walked onward. Left to right, side to side, he had to will himself to break away from it momentarily to keep from tripping over a fallen beam. Death sighed, shaking his head before looking around at the hanging wires that tangled in webs of cracked rubber and copper. Yet, he could never really break away from it completely. Despite how he had been around Mortis for centuries, seeing him wag his tail was surprisingly distracting.

Then again, seeing him content as he was now admittedly was a rarity. Perhaps he too was affected by this place?

Though as they kept moving, and Mortis kept rotting his way through the old building, Death started to notice something else other than how Mortis’ tail followed the tempo of his pace. Beneath his helmet, Death’s brow furrowed and his lip quirked in a thoughtful frown. Perhaps it simply was the way Mortis was walking to step over the bowed walls and fallen rubble, or maybe his wagging tail was accentuating his natural movements, but Death swore there was a sway to the lieutenant as he walked. Something about his form looked off, out of place. It was not in the way of intoxication or weakness, but something else. Something he struggled to put his gnarled, clawed finger on.

He pushed it aside for the time being, their fall down had been great, and he had seen Mortis have to set his host back in order before they carried on. Perhaps there was still a joint that Mortis did not set back in place.

Even so, the more he watched his lieutenant, the more he could not help but figure something about him, whatever it was, felt off. Though Death was not inclined to bring it up or make any untimely presumptions. There was still much to do, they did not have time to focus on superficial differences between themselves.

Another barrier of twisted metal and rotting insulation succumbed to Mortis’ rotting touch, and the dark judge gave a pleased hiss.

“We have arrived at the bottom.”

Death stepped past Mortis, and through the hole he had cleared. Through it he could see the twisted remains of the inside of the building’s ruined main floor, gnarled rebar and steel formed a treacherous passage, and at its end, he could see the remnants of a city street sitting in the dark. The superfiend gave a thoughtful hiss. While the pavement was cracked and lifting with age, there were signs of recent activity. Empty munce buckets sat out of place on the sidewalk alongside ancient, decaying litter. Graffiti marked the old brick walls of ruined buildings and portions of the lifting road, but the paint used looked too fresh to be from nearly a century ago.

He motioned for his lieutenant to follow, minding his footing as he descended the path of gnarled, thorny metal to step out onto the street. He heard Mortis follow him soon after, and turned to watch as he stepped to investigate their new surroundings. His claws sat upon his hips, idly regarding some long discarded clothing lying near the remains of a street lamp.

“We musst be closse. There are sssignsss of life everywhere.” Mortis hissed.

Death’s gaze flicked to look down the fissured street, contemplating. “Yess, too many sssignss. We sshould move with prudence, sstay out of sssight sso asss to not make any of them aware of our presssence.”

Down here, accessibility to the proper means of creating new hosts was uncertain.

Distant sounds of conversation caught both of their attention, and their heads swiveled in the direction of it. There were multiple voices and seemed agitated, sounding like there was an argument about something. From what Death could tell, they coming from somewhere down the road, not too far away. Wordlessly the duo came to an agreement regarding laying low.

Keeping low and staying behind the crumbling walls of the decaying buildings around them, Death lead the way as they advanced towards the sound. Mortis followed behind, keeping watch to ensure no one stumbled upon them. Bare clawed feet moved swiftly and quietly over the cracked asphalt, hopping over the portions that had given way and sunk into the earth. It was not long before they found the source of the sound, just over a pile of crumbling brick from where a building face had collapsed. Death motioned for Mortis to stay low next to him as they took cover behind a pile of rubble and peeked carefully over to assess their situation.

Beyond their cover sat the slouching ruin of an old apartment building. Its front was illuminated by several fires that had been built, contained in old barrels. At the edge of the firelight, it became clear that part of its side had caved in, exposing the decaying insides of the rooms. Most of the activity they had noticed, however, took place at the front, where figures were huddled around the small fires. Dressed in layers of old clothing to keep out the chill of the dark ruin, the tenants that took hold here looked as if they were barely managing to survive. Gaunt faces looked like those of haunted specters in the firelight. Further away from the barrels, there were some that sat on the rotting steps of the building, the grinding of stone against steel as one of them sharpened a knife was unmistakable.

A sharp, muffled bark of a shout caught the attention of a few settled around the barrel fire, glancing up towards one of the windows as shouting erupted again from the building. Shadows moved behind the shattered glass, suggesting there were more people inside.

Death looked next to him as he heard a low, dry creak of withered joints. A clawed hand rested upon the side of the pile as Mortis joined him in looking over the group. It felt as if he were nearly pressing up against his back, with how close had moved to see over him. While it was an odd, unfamiliar sensation, Death was far from considering making him move away. Though that was not all that felt odd, as Mortis came to speak.

“They ssseem eassy enough.” He quietly hissed, craning his head to look over Death’s helmet. “The worssst thing they could posssibly have on their persssonss are parasssitess.”

Until now, Death had been used to working closely with his lieutenant, but it had been so long since he had heard Mortis so close to him. The superfiend’s gravelled rumble was nearly in his head. His voice reverberated in his chest, and sent a shiver down his spine that he struggled to ignore. There was an alluring quality to his voice when he kept it low, one that brought memories, old and barely recognizable in the face of their situation. Images from a time long past, on a world they once knew, of two beings in comfort that now seemed alien and strange after spending so long on this iniquitous world.

How he missed it.

Death blinked, his lip curling as he roughly shoved the thought from his mind before managing to come up with a response.

“Yesss, poor creaturesss. They look ssso ready to be relieved of their misserable exissstence.” Death quickly agreed.

He gave a low hiss, looking between the group settled around the fires to the figures that argued in the window. Tempting as it was to descend upon the group then and there, throwing caution to the wind was not an option. Even now, they both could sense there were other entities in these old ruins, terrible creatures that the lurked beneath the Mega City where their denizens could not see, or care.

“We ssshould move quietly, deliver thessse sssoulsss unto death without drawing too much attention.” Mortis suggested, tilting his skull to look down at the chief.

“Agreed.” He hissed, “Let uss begin our ssesssion, sswiftly, sssilently.”

The duo descended upon the group like an icy wind, keeping out of the flickering light of their fires. Death’s attention settled upon one of the gaunt, weaker vagrants. His back was kept to the shadows while he busied himself with keeping warm, thawing his hands over the fire. A clawed hand snatched forward from the shadows to clap over the vagrant’s mouth, his pained cries muffled as he witnessed Death’s other hand erupt from his chest. He let the body fall aside, before moving on to pick his next victim.

His gaze turned in the direction of a sudden, withered gasp. Mortis’ methods were just as quiet, but lacked the necessity to muffle the sinners he sentenced. All he had to do was reach forth and wrap his talons around their neck, and they decayed into little more than fetid, rotting ooze and bones before they had the chance to scream. A low, pleased hiss escaped Death’s throat. It was a treat to see his lieutenant at work, purging the guilty alongside him again. There was something artful about the way Mortis carried out his sentences, to see flesh blacken and grow tender until it sloughed off the bone as a putrid slime. He paused briefly, taking a moment to watch Mortis as he moved on to sink his claws into another. Through the dark he could see the transformation take place as his rotting touch set to work. Eyes sunk into their sockets and liquefied, skin rotting and peeling away until all that was left was a pristine skull- and that too turned to dust in his grip.

Mortis and Fire, between them they had to have chosen the most effective, efficient methods, Death thought. Though they all were granted their talents depending on what came most naturally to them, Death understood well enough, part of him pondered the possibility of a time when he could have managed to do the same as them. But there was no envy in his curiosity, he was greatly partial to his own method; judging the living with an up close, personal touch was always his favored way.

He moved on, realizing that at his current pace, Mortis would claim the rest before he got a chance to sentence them. Death focused his attention to the vagrant that was sharpening his knife on the steps of the apartment. Unaware, far too busy minding the tool to pay attention to the lithe, towering figure that crept up behind him. Clawed fingers slipped over the man’s face and dug into the flesh, his knife dropped to the ground with a clatter. Dark eyes grew wide with surprise before darting to the grinning, helmeted figure that came to hiss in his ear.

“Greetingsss, sssinner.” Death hissed, watching as the man’s gaze darted down to watch in horror as his other hand came around to hover over his chest.

“Do not fear. Dying isss easssy, dying isss quick.” The soothing tone of his voice did little to quell the terror that sent the vagrant’s heart to pound against his ribs, and made the color drain from his face.

Gnarled talons flexed and slipped into the man’s chest, passing through clothing, flesh, and bone as if they were air. His heart was seized in an icy grip, its fluttering stilled the moment Death squeezed until it crushed beneath his fingers. Another one sentenced, another mortal freed from the burden of their immoral existence. He pulled his hand out from the man’s chest, letting his body fall against the pavement unceremoniously. Firelight reflected off the portcullis upon his helmet as he turned see Mortis approaching. The remains of his latest, and last victim slowly peeled from his talons. Rancid flesh decayed and sloughed from his hands as dust to be carried on the frigid, stale air.

“What ssshall we do about the mortalss inssside the building?” Mortis asked, his graveled voice now resembling a growl as he kept his voice low.

“We do the sssame.” Death whispered, “Move fassst and quietly.”

Death moved to slip in through the door first, catching sight of a couple more gaunt, starved looking figures huddled around a barrel fire. Their backs were to the door, completely oblivious to the carnage outside. Aside from a flare of their nostrils and a sharp sniff, they barely minded the scent of decay that mingled with the rest of the air around them. The Undercity was well acquainted to the foul stink of rot, not when the sewer system from the city above dumped into it.

Looking back to Mortis, Death nodded for them to move up, and within seconds the remaining vagrants on the ground would succumb to the same fate as their peers outside. The flames inside the barrel played twisted shadows upon Death and Mortis’ forms as they loomed over the two unaware vagrants. A clawed hand struck forward to muffle one of the two, while another, rotting set of talons latched themselves around the other’s throat. Death hissed, squeezing his victim close as they tried to struggle against him. Like the others before, his talons reached into the chest to grasp their beating heart. Not unlike before, he could not help but steal a glance at Mortis as he set about dealing with his own perpetrator. It had been a long while since he had seen the lieutenant work up close.

In the light of the fire, the decay seemed far more pronounced, deep shadows accentuating the hollows of cheekbones and eye sockets as flesh withered and fell away. While not completely distracted, part of the chief dark judge could not help but be mesmerized by the display, watching as flesh withered and gave way to bone, and then finally became dust.

Mortis‘ rough, deep voice dragged him out of his contemplation.“Let usss continue upssstairsss.”

Death hissed in agreement. He lead the way once again, tossing the remains of his victim aside to make his way towards the stairs. How they remained intact for so long, despite being riddled with cracks and feeling as though they would crumble beneath his feet was beyond him. Mortis followed carefully behind, minding his footing as he joined Death to seek the last few stragglers.

A few floors up they found the source of the arguing they had heard outside, now having calmed to a quiet conversation behind one of the many doors that lined the hall of the old apartment. Their feet softly padded along the rotting carpet, once red but now stained with a rainbow of different mold cultures. Paint peeled from the doors, the numbers that once had been on the doors had fallen off long ago, leaving only a discolored patch from where they had been pinned.

Death paused before one door, he could sense the life oozing from behind it, the stink of mortals. After having warmed up with the group outside, holding back was of little importance. The door was seized and wrestled off its hinges with a single motion, before being tossed aside.

There were only a handful of people in this room; a couple of guards, and a man. Compared to the rest of the group they seemed to be well fed, not a single sign of missed meals or lack of sleep showing upon their faces. These were the higher ranking individuals of the group to be sure, and the rifles that hung off of them gave a hint as to how. Yet, as the door was violently ripped away, all three of the occupants forgot completely about it all. Before them were two dark judges, indiscriminate destroyers, harbingers and deliverers of death. They froze, eyes wide in terror, their throats too dry to scream.

Mortis rushed in with wild abandon, his jaws parted wide with a sharp his and claws outstretched. In an instant he launched himself at the two guards and snatched them in his rotting grip. Their bodies turned to dust while their leader watched in horror, stepping back as Death came to enter the room. Beneath the shadow of his portcullis, his gaze settled on the only one left in the room. He gave a low hiss, stepping forward, his claws poised to strike with a sharp crackle of old sinew. The man looked between the two, before finally willing the courage to lift his rifle and fire two shots at the advancing superfiend.

One tore through his shoulder, forcing it back and knocking a hole through the bones of his shoulderpad, the other ripped a hole in his stomach, and clear out the other side. Yet, Death’s stride towards the man did not slow.

“Resssisstance isss ussseless, sssinner.” He extended a claw, pointing to the terrified man. “Sssurrender and come to jussstice.”

Breath hitched in the man’s chest, his lips forming words but failing to produce a sound. As if having come to some morbid epiphany, the man turned the gun on himself. The barrel of the rifle pressed into the bottom of his jaw. His eyes squeezed shut and with a pull of the trigger his head split, reduced to a fine red mist. Both Death and Mortis watched as his body fell limp to the floor with a heavy thud, blood pooling around the stump of gore where his head had been. And so the fate of the group of vagrants and the building they had hidden in, had been sealed.

“Yesss.” Death sighed, his claws stretched forth, basking in their victory.

The sounds of silence following a purge was a rewarding sign of purity. Here there was no longer crime, no iniquity, no life. There was only the dead, and the satisfaction of their job well done- however minor. His shoulders eased, leaning his head to look over at Mortis who came to join him.

“A good sssesssion, pity there wasss sso few of them.” He hissed, looking around at the carnage.

“Perhapsss sso, but it may alssso be a boon to usss, Mortiss.” Death hissed, turning to look at him fully. “We need a place to ssstay for a while, to think about our next ssstep. Thisss building will sssuit that need for now, but we musst deal with the bodiesss, lesst they draw attention.”

Mortis nodded, his bones creaking, “Underssstood. Perhapss it would be prudent to keep sssome with uss, in the event we need hosstss.”

His opinion was sound, and on the first level there likely was a door that lead to the basement level. Barring that they could just use one of the rooms to let them properly ripen for their purposes.

“Yesss.” Death thoughtfully hissed, looking around the room they were in.

Until now, the chief had not given the place a proper look over, too caught up in their work. However, looking it over presently, it was clear there was some care put into this place. The floor was more intact, lined with plush carpeting compared to the dingy hallway outside. Shelves lined the far wall across from a bed covered in layers of warm blankets. What was on them seemed to alternate, switching between holding a handful of books and magazines the recently deceased had collected over time, and numerous candles that had been burning long enough that a layer of wax covered the entirety of the shelf.

The dresser nearby was the same way, lined with dozens of candles that were all tediously kept alight. Down here, it may as well be the only way to have light in the room if a generator was not present.

Near the window, a couple of simple chairs sat around a squat wooden tea table. Both of which looked as if they may have been lifted from a motel. Whatever view the leader of the vagrants had in mind, he likely carried to his grave. All that laid outside was ruined remains of the civilization that was here before, and pitch black darkness. Death tilted his head, giving a thoughtful hum at the sight. While a mortal could not possibly appreciate it, the superfiend’s gaze cut through the dark rather well, and the view admittedly was quite homey. Part of him loathed to look elsewhere for a place to sit and think.

“We can ussse thiss room to our purpossess.” Death concluded after a look over. “I will take care of the bodiesss here. You deal with the corpsssess outsside.”

Mortis hissed in affirmation, before lurching towards the door and shambling to the stairs. Now, Death was left to himself, turning his gaze towards the window once more, but he seemed to look well beyond the ruined skyline. Fear and Fire were so close and yet so far away. More than likely their security had been improved in the short time they had been in captivity. While Death assured his lieutenant there would be a way to get them back, the how of it admittedly still felt far out of his reach.

He knew they would be kept under surveillance, electronically, psychically. Locked down in a well guarded tomb, surrounded by the numerous forces of the Mega City’s judges. Perhaps in time he would find a way to get to them, grow wise to a weakness to exploit, but there was something holding him back. A barrier rested in his mind, heavy and unyeilding. It tied his tongue and tangled his thoughts into unintelligible knots.

Frustration burned in his soul. How he wanted to come up with an answer, and yet his own mind robbed him of it.

A hand rose to his head, tensing against the hard surface of his helmet. His gaze shifted towards the decapitated body laying on the floor, blood still trickling from its ragged neck. Even if he could not come up with an answer, there was still much to do, much to get done. It was best he set his mind to something else for now.

Moving towards the body he knelt down, hefting the remains from the floor. He still had a room to prepare.


	3. A Breif Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A temporary base has been set up in the ruined apartment building Death and Mortis had conquered. As Death considers the methods of how to break Fire and Fear free, he finds his lieutenant is having difficulty focusing on their task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the smut chapter, and while Mortis possesses a female host in this part, he still is referred to as male, since his character regardless of the body he is in, is male from what I've gleaned from canon.

-Chapter 3-

Long, yellow claws tapped against the armchair’s worn fabric. Rhythmically drumming a mindless beat, the movement reflected the state of the dark judge that reclined in his seat. His lips were drawn into a frown, thoughtfully staring across the room to the line of lit candles that sat flickering upon the dresser.

Fear and Fire still weighed heavily upon his mind. More than likely his two lieutenants were moved to a different facility by now, if he knew anything about how the city’s judges worked. Could they still be in the same building, or would they house them in separate prisons altogether like they had done in the past when they had been sprung from their crystals? A low sigh whispered from Death’s teeth as he leaned over, letting his chin rest in his hand as he pondered the possibilities. Eventual as it usually was for them to be freed, it was never a simple task.

Perhaps there could be a way to slip in using a judge as their host? No, he quickly concluded, tossing the idea aside. Psi judges were a staple in their containment methods now, all it would take is a scan for them to notice something was off.

Utilizing some poor fool to get the rest of his lieutenants was an option, but to do so now would be too soon. They would be expecting another attempted jailbreak, likely keeping a close eye on anyone who visited the chamber they were being held in. Or they would forbid visitation altogether. Death’s tongue flicked to lick over his teeth, brow furrowing as he watched the candle flames dance. There had to be a way to get to them, a means to open up a sizeable opportunity to retrieve them from their prison. Yet, all of his attempts at planning ended at the same dead end, that static barrier in his thoughts that refused to yield and stymied his ideas.

His gaze shifted to Mortis, the sheep skull headed lieutenant having found himself a seat in one of the chairs situated next to the window. A clawed hand propped up his skull, resting so his elbow was on the edge of the windowsil. Empty eye sockets stared out into the darkness, the thoughts that lay in their depths unreadable yet distant. Once the energy of their earlier purges had passed, his period of higher spirits had left him as well.

“Mortisss.” Death hissed after a moment, though his lieutenant showed no signs of stirring upon being addressed. “I have been thinking, about Fire and Fear.”

There was a creak from the willowy undead, and Mortis’ skull tilted towards him. The oily black depths of one eye socket fixed upon him, his snout still pointed towards the window.

“Yesss? What of them?” His gravelled voice carried over the silence, dull moroseness having replaced his earlier enthusiasm.

The chief shifted in his chair, one leg coming to cross over the other as he turned his head to look more directly at Mortis. “How to free them, mossstly. The Mega City’sss judgesss are crafty, I feel they likely have moved them to a new location or placed them in ssseparate holding placesss entirely.”

“Of courssse they have. The judgesss of thisss place are quick to try and thwart our effortsss at every turn, no matter what. It isss not sssurprisssing after our latessst essscape they will attempt to hide them.”

“I have figured asss sssuch. With every capture they increassse their sssecurity measssuress and find new methodsss to keep usss imprissoned.”

“What have you consssidered ssso far, friend?”

Death fell silent, breaking eye contact with the other dark judge to glance down at the floor. A sigh hissed from his nose, or what remained of it. “I cannot sssay, it hasss been difficult to consssider the optionsss ass of late.”

His gaze lifted back to Mortis, “Perhapss you would have sssomething to contribute?”

Alas, the lieutenant gave a small shake of his skull. He turned in his seat with a hiss, his attention resting fully upon the chief. Idly, his tail flicked to either side, knocking against the leg of his chair.

“I know not how to free them either, chief judge.” He hissed, before adding; “Asss of late, I too have found it difficult to consssider how to proceed.”

His lieutenant went on, and Death’s drumming fingers came to a sudden halt, the air now completely silent.

“The stressssess of thisss world have been getting to me, I feel.” Mortis confessed, “Every time we attempt to make progresss in eradicating the iniquitousss, we are halted at every turn. For every sssetback we face, their numbersss grow, their toolsss to usse againssst usss increassse. We witnesssed it firsssthand how quickly they were able to capture usss.”

“Not ssso.” Death corrected, “We ssstill managed to essscape.”

“The difference is inconsssequential, Death. Even ssso, the tassk feelsss ever more immenssse each time we essscape. It feelsss nearly imposssible now to gain an edge. We cannot even return to Deadworld without having to face overwhelming opposssition. Regardlesss of whether we are in a cryssstal or not, they have usss trapped here.”

He could not deny Mortis had a point. Their dimension jump technology was held under lock and key. The tools they brought with them in the beginning; the Psi-sheild, their teleporters? All them were lost. All they had to them now were their wits and what power they still possessed while on this alien world. However, the thought of giving in to such surmounting pressure was not something that crossed the superfiend’s mind. There were still options at their disposal, if they were clever with how they played the hand they were dealt.

“We ssstill have sssome ressourcesss, the cult of death are deeply loyal to our caussse. If we call upon them they will anssswer without quessstion.” Death reassured, “How often hasss it been that they have aided usss in finding a sssafe place to reincarnate? You musst remember how quick they are to find a meansss to help uss return to our dutiess.”

Mortis shifted in his seat, “Perhapsss they will.” He agreed with the sentiment, but the dour feeling never left his tone.

Death‘s claws clenched into a fist against the arm of his chair, eyes glinting red from beneath the dark of his helmet. “Mortisss, do you not sssee? Thisss city isss merely a tessst, a meassure of our resssolve and dutifulness to our caussse. We cannot give in to the resssisstance the Mega City placess againssst usss and let their twisssted law reign sssupreme. If they win, what doesss that mean about usss?”

Despite his efforts, Death’s words felt like wasted air upon Mortis. The other gave a small sigh, turning away to look out the window, empty sockets focusing on the ruined cityscape outside. Once again silence settled between them, and Death silently settled back in his chair, watching his lieutenant. His skeletal tail slowly flicked to either side, mindlessly tapping against the wooden leg of the chair every so often. Of them all he loathed to see Mortis, one of his best, one whom had stuck by his side faithfully through all their plans to overtake the Mega City, become so discouraged. The sight of him sitting there, unmoved no matter what he had said to him, tied knots in his chest and set a lump in his throat.

The jaws of his skull parted, and Mortis finally broke the silence. His graveling rumble was quiet now, taking a nearly vulnerable quality. “I underssstand our motivess well, Death. We have ssshared them for centuriesss. But after ssso many timess of being met with failure, it isss becoming difficult to find a reasson to keep going.”

Death opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again and look back towards the row of candles along the wall. His brow furrowed, and he stirred the icy air with a frustrated hiss. What could he do to make Mortis come out of this slump? He needed him, he needed him to be able to stand by his side. Death’s eyes flicked over at Mortis, who was still staring absently out into the darkness. Perhaps he had said the wrong thing? No, that could not be the case.

Or could it?

Thinking over their conversation, Death’s expression turned to one of disappointment as he came to a realization. For all he had tried to encourage Mortis to keep going for him, he never stopped to wonder what exactly Mortis needed to keep going.

His eyes flashed red in the dark as he looked towards the bed, layered in all of its cozy, fine blankets. A collection of a handful of pillows sat in a pile at the headboard. They looked so plush, so soft and inviting. How long had it been since they had a rest, he wondered. Their captivity, he knew, was far from restful. Being held in their crystalline prisons counted moreso as being kept in a form of stasis, waiting until the time came that they were freed and allowed to seek corporeal hosts. There was no time or place to relax, to let their guard down in Nixon Penitentiary, not while they were monitored around the clock, for days, weeks, years. Perhaps it would do his lieutenant some good.

His gaze rested back on Mortis, thinking for a moment before getting to his feet. The other barely moved as he approached, and pulled aside the remaining chair next to the tea table. He sat down, the chair seeming a size too small for the towering dark judge as he leaned forward, clasping his hands together. He watched his lieutenant for a short moment, his sheep skull refusing to shift even a little to look at him, despite how Death looked at him so intently. Then again, it was not the first time he watched without giving any hint to it. With Mortis’ eye sockets being on the sides of his head, his visual range was far greater than the rest of the four superfiends.

He glanced to the window for a moment, before looking back to the other to speak. “Mortisss.”

“Yesss, chief.” Came his flat reply.

“I underssstand why you feel the way you do.”

“Oh?”

“Yesss. You are right that we have encountered ssetbacksss, too many, perhapsss.” He hissed slowly, “It iss underssstandable to have a a feeling of-”

“Being overwhelmed?” Mortis finished.

Though the other had not moved, Death could feel Mortis’ gaze upon him.

Death nodded, “That isss a word for it. Burnout isss inevitable with the conditionsss we musst contend with.”

There was a hum of agreement from the lieutenant, his head tilting towards him slightly as Death continued on.

“I had been thinking, perhapssss it isss time we take a moment to oursselvess. In all the yearsss we have been working to purge the Mega City of ssin, you have not had a chance to ressst, have you?” Death offered, “Down here isss perfect. There iss no one here who would dare intrude on usss. We can do whatever we pleasse, why not relieve sssome deep rooted ssstresss?”

Mortis’ skull turned to face him now, though his skull was unreadable at the best of times, he could not help but feel an intensity to his gaze as he looked at him now.

“How do you propossse?” Mortis asked, while he did not seem to have his spirits lifted, he did not sound disinterested in the idea either.

Death gestured to the bed with a talon, and Mortis’ head moved to follow and see. He heard a soft creak from the other’s tail as it flicked idly, as if contemplating.

“We could resst there, lay a while and clear our mindsss.” Death hissed, “I know our recent confrontation with the forcesss of the Mega City weighss on you, Mortisss. It may help you to take your mind off of it for a ssshort while.”

He watched as Mortis considered the bed for a few moments, a thoughtful hum rumbling in his lieutenant’s chest. With a sigh and a dry creak from his host, the sheep skull headed superfiend rose from his seat, stepping around the tea table to move past Death.

“Very well.” His graveled voice sighed, glancing back towards the chief as he stepped to the edge of the bed.

He turned around, having a seat on the edge of it, long talons touched and pressed against the soft surface of the blankets experimentally. Then, with a hiss, he let himself fall back against them. A soft plop followed his form, which was light enough that it barely disturbed the surface of the covers. His arms came to rest over his chest, shoulders shimmying to either side as he pushed himself further up onto the bed with his legs. There he laid, quiet with his snout pointed towards the ceiling.

“Thisss feelsss sstrange.” He hissed after a moment, tilting his skull to look down his chest to where Death was still sitting at the tea table. “It isss almosst wrong, with ssso much of our tassk left to do. Yet that too feelsss impossible, it isss an odd paradox of a sssenssation.”

“Think nothing of it, old friend.” Death hissed, soon rising to his feet.

He came to the side of the bed, taking a seat at the edge. Swinging his legs over the side, he shifted to lay on his back next to Mortis, staring up at the ceiling. His arms crossed over his chest as he let himself sink into the blankets. In a shallow breath, his shoulders relax and his rictus grin looses its intensity, taking on a peaceful, perhaps even meditative appearance. It was tempting, he had to admit, to let his eyes close, and his mind empty from where he laid next to his lieutenant. If it were not for a distinct lack of dead, it may have been comparable to the time he spent resting after necropolis among the mass grave he had hidden in. Yet, something kept him from letting go completely.

A sound, light tapping against the surface of the bed.

His head turned, looking next to him. Mortis’ snout was turned to the ceiling, his claws rested motionless at his side. But his tail, however, betrayed his otherwise calm exterior. The length of vertebrae rose and slapped against the blanket, curling and tensing against the fabric over and over again.

“Feeling ressstless?” Death asked idly.

“Yesss.” Came Mortis’ dead, rough voice.

“There isss sssomething sstill troubling you, I presssume?” His question was neither challenging nor impatient, but interested.

Mortis laid silently for a moment, contemplating. A hiss whispered from his skull and he turned his head to look at Death.

“There isss a tensssion in me I cannot sshake, chief. Ever sssince we esscaped Dredd’sss raid on our transsformation it ssseemss asss if I cannot let my guard down, even now that we are alone.” Mortis admitted, choosing his words as he attempted to put a finger upon the unease that sat heavy in his chest. “There isss a sstrong part of me that demandsss to remain vigilant, in casse...”

Mortis trailed off, his claws raising to reach behind his neck and anxiously scratch at the greened skin. A frown crossed Death’s features, rolling over so that he face Mortis. His arm shifted to rest under his head, watching the other as he attempted to find the words.

“In casse... He findsss usss. It ssseemsss he alwayss doess, sssomehow.” Mortis finished, letting his claws rest over his chest.

Either Dredd or Anderson, if they managed to figure out where they were or ended up, they would always come running to drag them back to containment. Death glanced down, studying the stitching on the surface of the blanket they rested on. Even if they thought they gave them the slip, those two would show up sooner or later to meet them. Their inevitability came to be a fact they had to deal with while trying to purge this city of life, but after the recent events that lead to them coming here, it was clear that the constant harassment was starting to get to Mortis. He could barely stop thinking about them even when their threat was far away.

Death returned to his thoughts, tapping a talon quietly against a loose stitch in the blanket. Part of him would give anything to take him back to Deadworld, if only for a short while. Where they could simply exist for a short while without the threat of interruption. There he knew Mortis would be able to find some peace of mind. His lips drew a thin line, or as close as they could over his teeth. While there was no way for them to return in person to their home world, perhaps there was a way to bring Deadworld to the both of them, if only for a short while.

A thoughtful hum rolled from his throat, his gaze flicking up to look at Mortis as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Mortisss, do you remember Deadworld, how it wass after the purgess?” He asked.

Mortis shifted, his shoulders flexed and settled against the bed as he tried to grow comfortable. “I remember it plenty.”

“Do you remember how we were after the firssst few yearss, the resstlessness that ssset in once we realized how permanent our ssstate of being wass?”

“The ssenssse of having completed our purpossse and yet feeling at the ssame time a lack of purposse?” Mortis added.

Death nodded, “Yess,” A smile spread across his lips soon after as he reminisced, “Back then we had our own troublesss that came with our newfound dominion over Deadworld, but we ssstill managed to find an ansswer to it through each other.”

Mortis tilted his skull, and Death could feel his gaze on him from the inky depths of the one eye socket that faced him.

“Yesss, timess were different then. We had ample time and opportunitiess to figure oursselvesss out, and learn how to deal with our unique ssituation.” Mortis hissed, “There wasss no pressure then.”

“Hm, different in sssome wayss, I sssupposse.” Death replied, thoughtful. “There wass jussst usss, the Sissterss, and an entire planet to oursselvess. I remember once everything had rotted away, the sssound of wind blowing over the boness. It made sssuch ssweet mussic.”

“The way the moon reflected off of them at night, when the sssky wass clear. I wasss almossst ass if it had ssnowed.” Mortis hissed, recalling his own memory. “I remember visssiting you on sssuch a night, feeling troubled but not ssso much asss I feel now. The moon wasss full and bright, Fire and Fear had gone off to explore the ruinsss.”

Death’s brow quirked, he recalled the memory of this as well. “Yesss, I remember how disstraught you were, feeling isssolated and alone with your troublesss. The ssscope of our immortality was too great to deal with on your own at the time. You came to me and the Ssissterss for advice I recall.”

“Yesss, Initially.” Mortis said, the memory seemed to be coming back to him as he continued. “But we found that the matter wasss bessst handled between oursselvess. I remember the eveningsss you and I sspent together, quietly enjoying our company, wrapped in each otherss armsss.”

“We ssstill could do that now.”

Mortis rolled over onto his side to face Death fully now, from the way his jaws hung slightly agape, perhaps he had not been expecting to hear what Death had said. Or perhaps, Death worried to himself, he may have overstepped his bounds. He cleared his throat, glancing away and then back to his lieutenant.

Death quickly tried to ease the situation, adding; “...If you would like to, I mean. I am merely ssuggessting.”

“It isss a tempting offer.” Mortis hissed, “And I have misssed our time together dearly. But it hasss been difficult to feel sssafe enough to indulge.”

Intimacy, since they had started their campaign on the Mega City was a luxury they could no longer afford the moment they stepped into a world of constant surveillance and pursuers doggedly trying to snare them at every turn. They had spent so much time trying to stay ahead of the Justice Department they barely were aware of their own needs. There simply was no place to allow themselves the ability to relax and evaluate themselves here, where staying under the radar was constant work. Death knew this well enough, though he was becoming more and more aware of the true weight of its impact now that he was out of the metropolis.

“I want to make you feel sssafe, Mortisss.” Death uttered as he digested all that Mortis had confessed to him. “You and I, we have been dealing with thisss city for decadesss. Perhapss it isss time we devote our attention to each other for once.”

Mortis watched him, dead silent save for the sound of his tail curling against the blanket. His thoughts, his feelings, behind his bleached bones of his face they were nigh inscrutable.

“Would you let me?” Death asked, watching the other intently.

Mortis’ response was surprisingly quiet, barely a whisper. Death swore he heard it more in his head than his senses, but it was there.

“Yesss, pleasse.”

There was a pleading quality to his reply, despite how reserved it was, a deep underlying need in it that he could plainly tell. Mortis needed him, badly and that was all he needed to know. Something within him, a passion that had gone neglected for a long, long while flared up within his breast and tugged at his soul.

Death sat up on the bed, inviting Mortis to do the same with a beckoning gesture. He moved to kneel comfortably, his back to the foot of the bed as he looked over the other. Mortis moved closer, seeming to want to move to touch him, embrace him, but he looked uncertain. He could see the tension in his being, how rigid his shoulders sat and his limbs tucked up against him.

“Come to me, Mortisss.” He invited, opening his arms to him, “Sssit with me. Let me sssoothe the tensssion from your sspirit.”

Before he knew it, whatever had been holding Mortis back broke free, and the lieutenant eagerly crawled over to him, straddling his thighs. He could feel his form pressed up against him, despite the chill of their presences he could sense a burning heat start to worm its way through his core. He wanted to hold him, to keep him close. His hands came to rest on Mortis’ thighs. He heard the other sharply inhale next to his ear as he gripped them, feeling and caressing before pulling his hips closer.

He could feel Mortis’ hands reach around his back, undoing the straps of his shoulder pads to let them fall against the bed. In turn Death did the same, removing the bulk of his garb to set aside. There was no need for it here.

Mortis’ head tilted as he does so, and Death found the exposed skin ever so inviting and in need of attention. Gentle kisses were placed along his lieutenant’s neck, moving up to give attention along his jaw as Mortis’ head started to lean back at the tender affection. Under his breath, he uttered his name against his skin. Death had only just started tending to him, and already the lieutenant’s back was arching up against him, his tail slowly curling and uncurling to either side. Mortis looked as if he was going to melt in his arms.

His claws roamed over his back, brushing over his spine and caressing his shoulders. He moved to let his cheek rest against the side of Mortis’ face, softly hissing and whispering into the bones that suggested where his ear would be.

“Oh yesss, I can ssee how much you needed thisss.” He said softly, his sibilant speech sitting deep in his chest. “Do not worry, dear. By the time we are finissshed the only thing on your mind isss going to be me.”

He could feel a shiver race up Mortis’ spine beneath his fingers, and with a sly grin he watched as his skull tilted to let an eye socket point to him, his gaze nearly palpable. The lieutenant was barely allowed time to process his insinuation. Clawed hands moved their attention down to caress over the curve of his waist and traced up his spine to cup to the back of his skull. With a gentle tilt, Death pressed his lips to his throat, glancing up at his partner as he heard a small, pleased cry from him.

He could feel him try to swallow the sound back down, muffle it from him. Flesh tensed under his lips and Death paused, his attention returning to the skeletal face of his lieutenant that tilted up to allow him access.

“Do you like when I kisss you there?” He whispered into his ear, watching him attentively from behind the portcullis on his helmet. “Tell me, doesss it feel good?”

“Y-Yesss.” Mortis hissed tentatively, his own reply seemed as if it was a surprise even to himself as he sat pressed up against him.

“How much do you like it, dear?” Death’s talons traced small circles over his back, and he gently breathed against his ear. “Would you like more, hm?”

“Pleassse. More.” Mortis hissed, he nearly whispered it against the side of Death’s helmet.

“Oh, you have no idea how much I misssed hearing you sssay that.”

He moved down, giving attention to his neck, letting Mortis burn under his touch and words. His lips brush over Mortis’ throat and neck, planting tender kisses along his skin. Yet, he could still feel him tense and resist as part of him still clung to vigilance. His gaze flicked up to look at him, sensing conflict laying behind the blackened depths of his eye sockets. He needed to give his lieutenant some further motivation, he quickly deduced.

Turning his attention back to his ministrations, his lips latched onto his throat once more, before pressing his mouth against the side of Mortis’ neck with a quiet hum.

“Relax, love.” He softly uttered against his skin, “Let me take care of you.”

Another kiss pressed against him, the hand that cradled the back of Mortis’ skull gently caressed over the bleached bone as he whispered soft reassurances between gentle attention.

“You worked ssso hard, Mortisss. It isss okay to want thisss, think of it asss a well earned reprieve, friend.” Death muttered, “Relax, sssavor it.”

He could feel the lieutenant’s shoulders drop, and a gentle tap of bone as the side of his skull came to rest against his helmet. At last, he was starting to make some headway with him. Death’s tongue flicked out from between his teeth, long and pointed, to trace itself up the other’s neck before letting himself give a gentle nibble against the bone of his jaw. Mortis shivered beneath him again, and he quickly felt the tips of his talons dig against the back of his leathers. Another soft cry whimpered from the lieutenant against the side of his helmet.

Now it was the chief’s turn to arch his back into Mortis, a surprised hiss escaping him. Death paused, considering his partner’s reaction. Had he done too much too soon? Was he being too aggressive? The worrying possibly his lieutenant became over-stimulated with his attention crossed his mind. He let his head rest against the side of Mortis’ cheek, gently stroking his back.

“Isss it too much? Do you want me to keep going?” Death asked, hoping he did not go too far with his playing.

A low, flustered hiss met him as the reply, and he soon felt Mortis’ claws grasp at the back of his helmet.

“Do not sstop.” He urged, “Pleassse, I am fine. Keep going.”

His sheep skull tilted to the side, allowing the other access as he nudged him back to work over his neck. Death could feel him press against the back of his head as he gave a gentle kiss against the side of his neck. A grin spread from ear to ear as the superfiend let his tongue run over the taught flesh. He could not help but quietly laugh, his jaw resting against the crook of Mortis’ neck.

“I’m liking thisss sside of you Mortisss. Ssso ressponsssive, ssso sssenssitive.” He let his lips brush over the other’s neck, before whispering so sweetly in his ear; “It makesss me wonder jusst how loud you will get when I go further sssouth.”

Another sound, soft and wanting, emanated from the lieutenant. Claws tensed against death’s back and thin, unnaturally long legs adjusted to wrap and cross over the back of his hips, pulling him close. Death’s teeth gently nibbled against Mortis’ neck, and for a moment he heard a quiet whisper escape him, faint as a sigh.

“Yesss.”

Death paused in his attentions, moving his head away to reach up with a free hand and remove his helmet. Beneath it greened flesh sat taught against bone, exaggerating the harshness of his features. From the recesses of his eye sockets, two icy blue eyes stared out. Their gaze was fixed upon the flustered superfiend pressed up against him. As he sets it aside he can see Mortis already move to unzip his uniform, peeling it off his gaunt form and hastily tossing it aside. A grin crossed his face once more, all too eager to continue their personal session. His hands returned to Mortis’ body, tracing over the edges of his ribs while his mouth busied itself with granting much needed attention to his shoulders, planting his lips along the crook of his neck.  
  
His hands came to rest upon Mortis’ waist, gently guiding him down onto the bed. Settled against the other as he laid back on the blanket, Death caressed his sides while he gently kissed his ribs, steadily moving down. He could feel Mortis watch him, anticipating what he could have planned next.

He shifted himself down further along Mortis’ form, his lips gracing the sharp edge of his hips before letting his tongue slither out, showing off its unnatural length as it tasted the ridge of his hip bone. Icy breath puffs from between his teeth against his lieutenant, and he glances up in time to see him watching. Through the dark, a red glow flashed in the depths of his eyes, intense and burning as they met Mortis’ gaze. His skeletal jaw hung agape, already panting. His bestial snout did not need flesh for Death to see the frustration that burned within him. Primal need rolled off the other’s aura, his exposed ribs heaving with lustful breaths despite there being no need to breathe. To see such want, such intense desire from his ever faithful subordinate, it tugged at something deep within the chief judge and sent a rushing warmth through his belly.

Death returned his attention to Mortis’ hips, staying above his utility belt and the silver skull buckle that grinned up at him. For a moment he regarding it, thinking. Then, looking up at Mortis, he let his tongue flick over his teeth and playfully nipped and tugged at the edge of the buckle, watching him. Death could see his claws tense against the bed, and hear his tail slap impatiently against the blanket.

Death let go of the buckle, his tongue licking over his lieutenant’s hips again. A soon chuckle purred from his throat as his tongue retreated back behind his grin.

“Mortisss, how would you like to sssee a trick?” He hissed, his eyes flicking down to his belt before returning to witness Mortis’ precious reaction as he elaborated. “I know how to get your belt off without usssing my handsss at all.”

The offer was almost in sing song, and his claws drummed playfully, feather light, upon either side of the other’s legs. This time there was no word from Mortis at all, as he quickly gave a nod of his head, eager for him to continue.

Shooting the other an eager look, Death dipped his head down, taking the buckle in his teeth. In one smooth motion there was a click and the decorative panel fell aside to allow him access to take the belt in his teeth and undo the buckle in one near smooth motion, pulling it out of the metal loop and tugging to release. He pulled the belt aside, letting it fall from his teeth before moving back down, his eye on the zipper of his pants.

Yet his hands made no move for it. They still held fast to Mortis’ hips.

Mortis seemed to pick up on it as well, as his attention was fully upon his chief. Glancing up at the other, Death shot him a wink before grasping the zip in his teeth and pulling down. Although, what met him made the superfiend pause.

Having expected to be met with a stiffening cock, a wry grin spread across his gaunt features as he found the line of two supple lips beneath the zipper instead. Immediately the pieces fell into place regarding what he had seen when they were descending the building. The sway in his step, the off-feeling Death had about his host.

“Well, well Mortisss...” He hissed, “Aren’t you in for a treat.”

“What?” Mortis quickly hissed, sitting up a little as he grew curious about what was making Death stall.

“The cultissstss appear to have gifted you a female hossst.” Death hummed, his tongue flicking out to languidly trace just above his newest discovery. “Oh, the thingss I could do to you, Mortisss. I could eat you right here and now.”

Death dipped down to kiss at the skin, savoring how his partner tensed as his teeth gently grazed over him. His claws moved to pull down his leathers some more, revealing how the skin betwixt his thighs glistened in the dark. A sweet heavy scent met his senses, and Death could feel his own need burning between his legs, his pants becoming tight. The glowing red of his eyes flicked up to look at the lieutenant again, and Death let his tongue slide out over his skin, making no effort to hide how it was long enough to stretch from one crest of Mortis’ hips to the other. In the low light, it glistened and flexed like a serpent, suggesting a girth that would satisfy his lieutenant’s burning need.  
  
He felt him tense again under him, impressed by the display and wanting more. Retiring the long, slick muscle, Death nibbled upon the edge of his hip, savoring as he watched Mortis tense and whimper from his teasing.

“Would you like that, Mortisss?” He breathed against him, his teeth grazing gently over the greened skin, “I have not indulged in a meal in sssuch a long, long while.”

At that, his talons suddenly slid down around Mortis butt and roughly squeezed. The other’s back arched with another needy sound, all of his playful teasing building up to one quickly breathed, desperate hiss;

“Yesss!”

Mortis’ hips bucked up to meet him and in one swift moment, Death became unrestrained. Seizing his hips he kissed Mortis full on the lips of his pussy, his tongue pushing into the slick, wet flesh to taste. One long, savoring lick was enough to make Mortis shudder around him, the smoldering depths of his eyes looking down his stomach to watch him squirm and whimper his name as he swirled the tip over his clit before stroking back down to slide it into him.

The muscle slithered and writhed in deep, attentively seeking out the places his partner enjoyed best and massaging against them. Gasps and moans motivated Death further, words no longer held a place. The way Mortis bucked and rolled his hips up against his mouth was enough to direct his movements.

Mortis’ pleasure grew louder, claws grasping roughly at the blankets and his motions becoming more desperate. He was getting close, Death could feel his form tensing around him and trying to pull him in as deep as he could. Mortis’ legs came to press against the back of his head and pinned his face between his thighs, ensuring that he had Death’s complete attention. His hand moved from where it had been squeezing his cheek, carefully placing his thumb to stroke and trace over the hardening flesh of his clitoris while he worked. Death’s eyes never left him as he watched Mortis arch his back and cry out from the new intense sensation.

His claws dug into blankets and with one last swift buck of his hips, Death could feel the other squeeze around his tongue, pulsing rhythmically. A low, satisfied sound hummed in his throat as he continued to let his tongue gently massage and writhe around in him, drawing out the waves of pleasure that left his partner mindless and gasping, his back curved in a severe arch. Death savored the taste as he felt the other drip down his tongue and into his mouth. Mortis tensed once more around him, uttering a final satisfied sound before falling completely limp.

Confident that he had finished him off, Death gave gave one last lick over the folds of his pussy before swiping the last remnants of the other from his lips. But as he moved to pull away, he found in the throes of Mortis’ climax, his thighs had closed tightly around his head, trapping him. His hand moved to gently clap upon his shivering thigh, trying to get his attention.

“Mortiss?” He hissed against him, “Mortiss, pleassse, you mussst let go.”

The other remained still and dead silent as he laid unconscious, completely incapable of responding.


	4. Afterglow and Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following their intimate reprieve, some new fears emerge in Death's mind, while he settles a few others with Mortis.

-Chapter 4-

Death had to admit, he did not expect Mortis to have been able to lock his legs so tightly Trying to free himself was like trying to wrestle free from the grip of rigor mortis. His legs shifted upon the bed, finding the appropriate stance to keep himself upright while his fingers probed between Mortis’ thighs in a search to loosen his vice-like grip. Though it was not through his efforts, he could feel his lieutenant relax around him, and eventually his head slipped out from where it had been stuck up against Mortis’ groin.

Yellowed claws reached up to feel around his neck, certain his skin was incapable of bruising in this state, but the roughness feel of it against his fingers suggested the beginnings of chafing.

His tongue slipped out, licking over his lips again. He could still taste the other upon them, the heavy scent of their activities hung in the cavity of where his nose may have been prior to undeath. The burning desire between his legs was little more than a distantly remembered discomfort- eventually fading as his mind changed focus instead of seeking release.

Death sighed quietly, sitting up as he looked over the resting form of the sheep skull headed superfiend.

While Death had managed to keep his uniform, the only article of his uniform that had not been shed form his form was his trousers, the black leather peeled down to his knees. From where he laid on the blanket, Mortis looked a picture of ease. The superfiend’s skull lolled to the side, his skeletal jaws reminiscent of a peaceful smile from the angle Death viewed him. Claws that were normally tensed, cruelly curved and always at the ready to sink into something, now laid limp over his chest. Every so often a talon twitched, perhaps reflexive of the afterglow that encompassed him, or maybe, Death wondered, he could be sleeping.

Could the dead sleep, truly? Even he could not find such a rest when he had managed it. Then again, he also had not intended to overwhelm him so that Mortis fell unconscious.

A faint pang of envy stirred in the chief’s breast, wishing he could know such peace of mind himself that he could become fully absent from his surroundings. A small sigh escaped him, pale blue eyes following as the other shifted in his ‘sleep’, his tail slowly curling and uncurling against his thigh. At the very least, he knew Mortis was not worried about whether or not Dredd would find them at the moment.

Perhaps it would have been wise then, to let his lieutenant sleep off their romp, but he could not help but find something inviting about the other. How quietly he laid there, the way his tail gently moved to and fro across the blanket. He laid so still, so quiet. Planning could wait, said a small voice in the back of his head.

Why not take a moment to enjoy the other’s company? He had suggested it himself not too long ago. It did not have to end once he had tended to Mortis’ needs.

The other tilted his head, his bony snout nudging the plush cover with a soft sigh and muttered something quiet and unintelligible. Death did not feel tired, his body light and unencumbered by the drowsy, warm weight of a want to rest; but part of him, some unexplainable yet vocal portion of his mind, found it important that he take up the space at Mortis’ side and lay a while.

Spidery limbs crawled up alongside the other, and Death let himself lay next to him upon his side. Glancing up, he eyed the pillows that still sat at the head of bed, before reaching up and plucking an especially soft looking one from where it peeked out from under the pile. Its cover suggested a soft, warm pastel color, but in the candle light it looked more orangish.

Gently he slipped his fingers underneath Mortis’ skull, doing his best to lift and push the pillow beneath it without disturbing him. To his relief, he barely stirred, save for a tired hiss and shifting to grasp the pillow in his claws, subconscious instinct directing him to pull it to a more comfortable position as he nuzzled into it.

Perhaps a blanket would be wise to add as well, Death pondered. Though it had been a long while since they had acted the part, he knew no lover, especially not him, would simply leave his partner to catch a chill.

The fact that Mortis was undoubtedly one of the coldest of the four was quickly brushed over, as he sat up and reached over the resting form of his lieutenant. Curving talons snatched and caught on the edge of the soft blanket, pulling it over him as best he could. If Mortis had managed to fall unconscious further up near the headboard, perhaps the task would have been simpler.

Regardless, the fruit of his efforts had been what he was looking to attain. The cover was over Mortis, albeit tucked and bunched awkwardly, and his legs stuck out from the calf down. However, he seemed comfortable enough, at least from what Death could tell.

His lips briefly pull into a small smile, the flickering candlelight reflecting off his teeth. With a sigh he rolled onto his back, letting his arms fold over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. Though Death’s expression soured as a new thought entered his mind, a thoughtful frown creasing into his features.

He enjoyed seeing Mortis so content, in a state of complete serenity, yet something itched at him about it, prickling his thoughts with a sense of uncertainty and doubting his judgment. Had this all been a truly wise decision? Devoting so much intimate attention upon him, instilling a sense of things like they had been back on Deadworld had felt like a natural method to ease his fears, but at the same time there had been a good reason not to all the same.

What of Fear and Fire? What would they think about him now once they figured out what he had done? Special treatment could lead to unrest, especially since he had not shown them the same attention while they were in this dimension. Favoritism, hissed his thoughts, it was not good form for their leader to put the needs of one above others. It was not fair to let Mortis have such privilege when they still had so much to be done.

Oh, and what about the Mega City Judges?

Those devils combed them relentlessly for any method of getting an advantage. They certainly would see their little ‘break’ as weakness to exploit. The moment they figured out just how deeply their ties ran, they would find a way to take advantage of it. Already Death could imagine what monstrous things they would attempt once they figured out there was more to them than sharing a single goal and a sense of camaraderie.

Was that what he wanted?

Did he want Dredd, the Judges, to figure out they were more than their assumed duty?

In the past he had hoped becoming more personable to the sinners of Mega City one would open them up to their cause, knowing they had been alive and human and one point, possessing families, childhoods, life experiences like anyone else. But even then he knew better than to spill everything about the four of them.

The worry mingled among others, hissing angrily in his mind like vipers as he reflected upon him and Mortis. A green hand raised to rest upon his temple, squeezing and dragging down his face with an exasperated hiss. Whether it was the possible vitriol from his two incarcerated lieutenants, or whatever cruel devices Dredd and the Judges of the Mega City had in store for them; what had been intended to be a simple, tender attempt to ease the burden upon his lieutenant’s morale had quickly managed to place an immense weight upon his thoughts.

His gaze flicked towards the window, out at the nigh impenetrable blanket of darkness that hung over the Undercity. Even with all his fears clamoring away in his mind for attention, down here they all seemed so distant. Inevitable as they felt, they seemed the type that always would menacingly loom but never truly touch him. Even Dredd and Anderson, their usually certain threat seemed little more than a distant concern, barely worth worrying about with so much sitting between them.

Death’s expression softened, maybe, just maybe, there was some blessing for the both of them to indulge in things they otherwise had assumed forbidden. Save for the spots of life that existed far and few between down here, it passed as a home away from home for the time being.

The plush material of the blanket fabric crumpled as he rolled back over, his gaze exchanging the sight of the ruined, permanently midnight city to roam over the resting form of his lieutenant. His skeletal jaw idly opened in a sleepy hiss before shutting with a dry click of his teeth. Beneath the blanket he heard something shift, and Death glanced down to momentarily watch as his tail slowly moved beneath the plush cloth like a serpent, idly coiling and slacking. To see his lieutenant so peaceful, so content, it was a sight he had not witnessed in decades. Something in his soul lightened, a fond memory stirring and easing the weight that sat upon it earlier.

Leaning over, Death’s tongue ran over his teeth contemplating the form beneath him momentarily. Then dipping down ever so gently, placed a tender kiss upon the smooth bleached bone between Mortis’ eye sockets.

Laying back down, Death got comfortable upon the bed, turning his head to better watch the other rest. The circumstances could have been better, and the deeply unorthodox methods he had taken to get him to this point may have planted some new fears within his thoughts, but in all, there was not a part of him that regreted having bestowed some personal, tender care upon him.

After all, was it not obvious how much they both had needed it?

Mortis shifts, a low groan rumbling in his throat as he stretches and rolls over to face him. Bone rubs up against leather as he nudges his snout beneath Death’s chin, and a bony, willowy arm broke free from the blanket pulled over him to stretch across his chest, pulling the chief closer. Death scoots himself closer, obliging the other’s quiet, sleepy request to cuddle up to him by rolling to a more comfortably position. On his side, its easier for Mortis to grasp around his back and press up to him.

Another barely conscious hiss, and Death hears the other mutter groggily under his breath; “Sssidney.”

An old name, one the chief had not used in a long while. Should it have been uttered by anyone else he would have scowled and executed them on the spot, but from Mortis? It felt like home to hear the name upon his tongue.

Mortis moved again, nuzzling his face up against Death’s collar. Sensing the perfect opportunity, he takes advantage of the position to place another soft kiss on the edge of his eye socket. Pleased with himself he let his chin rest upon Mortis’ skull with a small sigh, enjoying feeling the other’s form pressed up against him as Mortis slowly regained his senses.

“Good to sssee you awake, Mortisss.” He softly uttered against the bone, “Did you enjoy yourssself?”

“Yesss.” Mortis sleepily rumbled against his chest.

A gentle ticking sensation slowly roamed up Death’s spine, as Mortis’ claws trailed over it. His arms shifted, wrapping a little more firmly around him. For a moment Death pondered if Mortis returned to resting now that he had him ensnared in his arms, not a word came from him, his form refusing to stir any further. A small smile graced the chief’s features as he let his fingers gently dip behind Mortis’ skull, affectionately caressing the bone.

Time ticked pleasantly by, not a sound between them save the flicker of candle flame and the low moan of the cold air passing beneath the Undercity’s cement dome.

“It feelsss good, to be able to do thisss again.” Mortis hissed, breaking the quiet, “No one to interrupt uss, no one consstantly ssspying in on what we are doing.”

Death hummed in agreement, letting his eyes close as he slipped his other arm under Mortis to wrap around his back, gently stroking over the washboard-like texture of his ribs and caressing in the spaces between them. He could feel his lieutenant press against the attention.

“If not for the circumssstancess, perhapsss it would have been nice to find thisss place earlier. Maybe esscape to it every now and again to take a reprieve.” Mortis added, the motion of his jaw brushing against Death’s chest as he spoke.

“Agreed, we have been needing thisss for a long while.” Death hissed, tilting his head to let his lips brush against the top of Mortis’ skull, “I misssed you ssso much, holding you, kisssing you.”

He planted another kiss atop the bone, his arms shifting to squeeze Mortis against him.

“Down here we are far enough away from prying eyess and interruptionss, I wasss able to get enough disstance and peace of mind to realize it. No Pssiss, no camerasss, no Dredd or Anderssson. Jussst usss.”

Smooth bone shifted against him, brushing against his throat. Though Mortis lacked proper lips, his jaws parted ever so slightly, and allowed the tip of a greened, pointed tongue to flick out and gently lick over his throat in a kiss.

Icy breath hushed against Death’s throat, “I will have to repay you for thisss.”

Death’s eyes opened, looking down in time to meet the oily black depths of Mortis’ eye sockets. He barely had to move to lean down and kiss him on the tip of his snout.

“Mortisss, you do not have to do anything.” Death uttered, “Thisss wass for you. Dredd’sss meddling wass essspecially concerning thisss time, I hated to sssee you sssuffer ssso.”

“Thank you.” The other’s gratitude was felt more than heard, even when speaking so soft and intimately, Death could feel Mortis’ voice rumble in his chest.

Mortis settled up against his chest once more, his head nudging up under his chin. He could feel the other’s claws traced along his back briefly, and Death quietly gave a pleased hum at the gentle attention. But good as it was, there was still some stubborn fret lingering in his lieutenant’s mind.

“Who might have given uss away?” He wondered aloud, a bitter edge lacing his tone as he spoke.

Admittedly it was a good question, Dredd had found them quickly, too quickly. But at the same time, part of his mind refused to linger upon it. Painful as their latest defeat had been, it already passed. There were other matters to worry about, though Death loathed them to be on Mortis’ mind.

“It doess not matter now.” Death assured, “Whoever told Dredd of our planss likely died in the raid, or they are in cusstody. Their identity doesss not concern me, not when Fear and Fire sstill are imprissoned.”

A thoughtful sound emanates from the sheep skull headed superfiend tucked up against him, not completely reassured by his words. Death’s gaze flicked down to him, a hand trailing up Mortis’ back to cup behind his head, gently rubbing back and forth.

“Think nothing of it, Mortisss.” He reassured, tilting his head down to rest his cheek atop his head. “Clear you mind, relax. In time I will think of sssomething.”

There was but a small sound of agreement, before Mortis fell silent.

Over and over, his claws gently trailed over the bone of the other’s skull, tracing the minute lines that zigged and zagged across the cranial plates. After a few moments, he could feel Mortis relax against him again. Perhaps becoming awake enough to realize his pants were still down around his knees, he reached down and pulled them back up before seeking a comfortable position. Pressed up against him, Death watched his lieutenant where he was laying with his face muzzled against his chest. If he could let this last a while longer, perhaps spend several years here; him and Mortis, content in each other’s embrace, he would.

Instead, there was a small sigh against the bone of Mortis’ skull, before his eyes turned their gaze up towards the window and out. They looked out past the ruined buildings, and seemingly through the cement ceiling up above them, focusing on a matter beyond their reach.

Fire, Fear. Perhaps they could forgive this brief interlude if it meant finding a means to break them free.


End file.
